


a gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs

by brightlyburning



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Felix Hugo Fraldarius, M/M, Omega Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Service Top Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Top Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26057455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlyburning/pseuds/brightlyburning
Summary: Dimitri's hands skate down his sides, curl into the waistband of his trousers, and peel them and his smallclothes down Felix's thighs. Then, his hands come back up, fingertips lingering over where Felix's cock rises heavy and full, to dip between his cheeks. One hand curls about the base of the plug and the other presses at the small of Felix's back, makes him arch to give Dimitri a better view.Felix hisses against Dimitri's throat, all too aware of Dimitri gazing down at where the shining metal of the plug stretches at his rim. The plug, infused with some sort of shapechanging magic, responds to Dimitri's testing hand by pulsing, widening Felix further."Oh," Dimitri breathes, fascinated, and all Felix can do is moan as the plug presses unyieldingly against his prostate, making his cock leap, spill more precome onto Dimitri's jacket and the furs on the throne.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 12
Kudos: 113
Collections: Dimilix NSFW Bingo





	a gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs

"This session of the privy council is ended," Felix says, managing to keep his voice level as the plug inside him expands, tugs at his hole in an imitation knot. A hot thrill of arousal flies up his spine when he stands to gather his notes, the wet rim of his hole clenching tight about the plug, and he says nothing, only nods to the various nobility as he tucks the papers in the crook of his arm. At the back of the room, Sylvain ushers the delegation from Sreng towards the parlor for refreshments, and Felix makes his escape.

The advisor's private hallway that leads to the formal throne room is narrow, lit only by a lamp, but he's alone here. He can breathe out his need in a low curse, loosen the cravat strangling at his throat, and scrub the back of his hand over lips numb with want of a kiss. The hall's never seemed that long, but he feels every step this time as he stumbles across the stones. The plug's kept him satisfied thus far, allowed him to attend the day's meetings without devolving into a whimpering mess, but his heat's reaching a stage where he needs Dimitri. His king's rough and gentle hands, his low voice, his intent care for Felix's safety and pleasure.

Felix's clothes, normally unremarkable, rub at his oversensitive skin, pull his nipples into tight and tingling peaks. The insides of his thighs have stayed dry, all his slick plugged in him, but even so his body cries out for something in him, something to ease the demanding ache. The plug's done its job, but he's so hot-

The handle of the throne room door is a sudden cool shock to his palm. He blinks at it, then straightens, hissing as the plug changes shape to prod at his spot. Damn thing - he's only wearing it because he demanded to, would not be kept from a meeting this important as long as there was any way to tamp down his heat, but now he regrets it.

The handle turns, and he steps in, head high. The throne room's a vast space, hard to keep warm, but the chill is a blessing on his warm skin. Only a few petitioners still remain, most of them minor nobility from the former Alliance or Empire here to air grievances. Dimitri's too damn good, refuses to send them away or leave them unheard, and at the thought of him Felix's heart thuds in his chest. 

Dimitri hasn't seen him: is too busy listening with grave intensity to some elderly man in Leicester colors. His crown, gold threaded with blue diamonds mimicking the ice of Faerghus' mountains, sparkles in the candlelight. The pale throne where he sits, crafted to resemble mountains and glaciers, has various furs thrown over it from Dimitri's hunts: each monarch makes it comfortable with their kills, shows how they deserve dominion over Faerghus' wild and stubborn people.

Dedue, at Dimitri's side, notices Felix's appearance at the back of the hall and offers a slight nod. When the old man pauses in his petition, Dedue leans down to whisper in Dimitri's ear.

Dimitri straightens in his throne, gaze flicking to Felix as he approaches. Even the imagined pressure of his gaze, patient and knowing, sets Felix's skin goosebumping beneath his clothes, dries his mouth. A slight smile tugs at Dimitri's lips. He murmurs apology to the old man as he's shuffled aside into the crowd, and Felix sets foot upon the dais.

He holds his breath as he steps onto it, the motion jostling the plug, but he keeps his breathing regular and his expression smooth as he offers obeisance. The thick blue and gold carpet beneath his knees is a torture, poor replacement for Dimitri's touch.

"Your privy council has finished meeting, Your Majesty." His voice barely quakes.

"Thank you, Duke Fraldarius." Dimitri's deep voice has Felix suppressing a shudder. "Dedue, if you would clear the hall and guard the door while the Duke delivers his report? We can continue the petitions afterward."

Felix barely hears Dedue reply, all of his focus on keeping himself tight about the plug, his body steady where he kneels. His hole continues to clench about the toy in rippling waves, demanding spend it can't give, and his fingers dig into the papers in mute testimony.

The hall clears behind him, but it's not quick enough, could never be quick enough. Goddess. He can smell Dimitri - chamomile and weapons oil, spiked with the rising heat of lust - can hear his rapid breathing, edged with a growl -

Why can't they leave _faster_?

At the top of his vision, Dimitri's hands clench on his knees, pulling the fine cloth of his trousers taut. Behind Felix, the doors to the throne room swing shut with a loud bang, and silence settles.

"Felix."

Felix blinks sweat from his eyes, reaches aside to set his notes on the dais, and then looks up.

Dimitri's nostrils flare wide with each breath, drawing Felix's scent. His eye gleams with hunger. Yet his voice is calm, adoring, when he says,

"Come here, my love."

Felix wastes no time. Doesn't even balk, the way he would at any other time: only scrambles onto Dimitri's broad thighs, wrapping his arms about Dimitri's strong chest, and then presses his face to Dimitri's neck to breathe him in. His lips are met with stiff brocade, not the stubbled expanse of skin he needs, and he growls, makes to yank the cloth off.

"Wait, wait-"

Dimitri curls one hand about the back of Felix's neck, his palm broad and heavy but never oppressive, to hold him back, give his other hand space to undo the tiny buttons holding his collar shut. Then, finally, the brocade gives way, allows Felix to dip his mouth to the golden hollow of Dimitri's throat, kiss the sweat-damp skin there.

He's almost whining, he notices with a faint and distant distaste, wild with the need he's forced back all day, and his hips shudder forward against Dimitri's belly, back into the teasing pressure of the plug.

Dimitri's hands skate down his sides, curl into the waistband of his trousers, and peel them and his smallclothes down Felix's thighs. Then, his hands come back up, fingertips lingering over where Felix's cock rises heavy and full, to dip between his cheeks. One hand curls about the base of the plug and the other presses at the small of Felix's back, makes him arch to give Dimitri a better view.

Felix hisses against Dimitri's throat, all too aware of Dimitri gazing down at where the shining metal of the plug stretches at his rim. The plug, infused with some sort of shapechanging magic, responds to Dimitri's testing hand by pulsing, widening Felix further.

"Oh," Dimitri breathes, fascinated, and all Felix can do is moan as the plug presses unyieldingly against his prostate, making his cock leap, spill more precome onto Dimitri's jacket and the furs.

"I hadn't thought," Dimitri says, his hand exploratory now, dragging fingertips over where Felix is trembling and taut, "that this plug would do what you said, but you were right. I couldn't smell your heat until you knelt before me."

"Of course I'm right," Felix mutters against Dimitri's pulse, "and the negotiations went great, thank you for asking, and yes, I am in heat, hurry up and _fuck me_." This last he punctuates with a bite, and grins around his mouthful of skin when Dimitri growls.

The world swings about him as Dimitri stands up, supporting him with one hand and yanking his trousers off with the other, and then spills him back onto the throne. Dimitri takes Felix's place on the floor, kneeling. 

The furs are delicious against his bare skin as Felix tries to push himself up-

"No," Dimitri says, low, voice the rumble of a glacier breaking. His hands curl about Felix's hips, pull them down until his entire lower half is hanging off the throne's seat, supported only by Dimitri's hands. "I want-"

He urges Felix to hook his knees over his broad shoulders, cross his ankles behind his neck, leaving Felix bent over, utterly vulnerable to his gaze, his hands, his mouth. His cheeks glow red, his eye dark, hooded with want. He looks at Felix like a treasure he's stolen, his mouth twisted into a snarl of possession, and then stoops to press a kiss to Felix's trembling belly, breathes, 

"My love."

Before Felix can say anything, Dimitri rucks Felix's shirt up. "Open," he says, and Felix would dare anyone to defy the irresistible promise of future pleasure in that voice. Felix opens his mouth, and Dimitri tucks the hem of his own shirt between his teeth, closes his mouth with a tap of his fingers. The fabric grows damp as Felix presses his tongue against it, holding back his sounds.

Felix is utterly exposed, his nipples pebbled and stiff in the cool air. Dimitri, expression wolfish, gaze intent on Felix's face like he intends to consume him, catches one between thumb and forefinger, twists it the way he knows Felix likes, and grins smug and slow when Felix bows up into the pain, moaning around his gag.

Then, more kisses, a line of them from Felix's navel down, over the ready line of his cock - Felix snarls when Dimitri merely plants several sucking kisses down the bottom of his cock, avoiding the string of precome connecting Felix's cockhead to his belly - and to his balls, high and tight with need.

Dimitri's eye crinkles with mirth. "Patience, Felix," he says, like he's the one in heat, the bastard, and then he curls his finger around the stem of the plug. "Shall we see how wet you are, beloved? How much slick this held back, all day, while you sat in those meetings with no one the wiser?"

He pulls at it as he thumbs at Felix's other nipple, and Felix tosses his head back against the furs, moaning around his mouthful. A first gush of slick flows out of him to spatter the seat of the throne, Dimitri's hand, and goddess, the sound's filthy, how wet he is, how wanton, but it feels so good, has him arching into it with a muffled cry.

"Lovely thing," Dimitri says, low, rough, his eye near-black. His hand spans the narrow breadth of Felix's chest, Felix's heartbeat hammering against his palm. "You can give me more, I think. Perhaps, if you're as wet as I think you are, I can just-"

He drops his hand from Felix's hole, and cloth moves against cloth: undoing the laces of his trousers, no doubt, pulling his thick cock out into the air. Is it already slick, wet with Felix? He undresses no further, and the idea has Felix shuddering: his king, so needy that he doesn't even undress all the way, only bares his cock to fuck?

Then, Dimitri grasps the plug again, twists it so Felix's cock jumps and spurts out even more precome to puddle in the heaving plain of his belly-

"Bear down, my love-"

He pulls the plug free in one inexorable slide, the way eased by Felix's slick. Another gush of warm slick, wetting the furs, the carpet, and Felix would be humiliated, would cry out at the emptiness, but-

Dimitri breathes out a curse, then rises. Onto his knees, the powerful muscles of his thighs flexing, and up, planting one knee on the seat of the throne beside Felix's shuddering flank, and forward-

He slides into Felix in one smooth motion, throwing his head back on a ecstatic groan, the tendons of his throat standing out. His cock spears Felix to the hilt, presses him open and wide and leaves his body trembling, clutching, milking at it for the spend the plug could never give him. 

Felix can barely breathe out his sigh of completion, pinned in place beneath the bulk of Dimitri's body, but that's all right. He's full, he's caught, he's loved - Dimitri let him do what he must, and still welcomes him into the circle of his arms, the inner secrets of his heart.

Above him, Dimitri peers down with furrowed brow. One hand rests white-knuckled on the arm of the throne, the other petting callused fingertips over Felix's lips to persuade the soaked cloth of his shirt free.

"Are you well?" His voice trembles, hoarse with need and the urge to move.

Felix shifts, clenches about the solid bar of Dimitri's cock within him just to watch the darkness expand in Dimitri's eye, the convulsive bob of his throat.

"With you?" he says, his grin fierce, all teeth. "Always."

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the DimilixNSFWBingo. Comments and criticism are adored and replied to. Follow me on Twitter at 'carthageburning' if you'd like!


End file.
